


The Art of Living

by blynninja



Series: Childhood [11]
Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grief, Other, cemetery visits, in memoriam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 13:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15171470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blynninja/pseuds/blynninja
Summary: Hak and Yona visit the cemetery.





	The Art of Living

**Author's Note:**

> All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.  
> -Havelock Ellis
> 
> Happy Independence Day, American friends. Thanks to those who serve(d) and sacrifice(d).

The closer they came to the cemetery, the quieter they became, only the sound of their footsteps and birdsong breaking the silent afternoon.

Hak let Yona have the silence, watching her out of the corner of his eye as they walked the familiar path.

The cemetery where her parents were buried wasn’t far from the Son house, less than a mile, and though Mundok had offered to drive them, Yona had said she preferred to walk today.

She had politely refused everyone’s company but his, and Hak had smiled apologetically at Tae-yeon, assuring him that they could go together another time. 

Tae-woo had set an arm around the youngest’s shoulders, promising to help him bake cookies, and Tae-yeon had hugged Yona fiercely before letting them go.

Yona had started to speak at the beginning of their trek, but had closed her mouth as though she’d thought better of it. Hak hadn’t pushed her, knowing that today was bound to be difficult.

Instead he had resolved to stick as close as she’d let him, and let her cry on his shoulder when she needed.

As soon as they stepped onto the cemetery grounds, Yona clutched his left hand with her right, the one not carrying flowers. Her fingers trembled and Hak squeezed reassuringly, letting her set the pace.

They walked slowly toward the Hiryuu headstone, Yona’s trembling spreading to the rest of her body the closer they came to the graves.

The cemetery was quiet and still, only the occasional squirrel or bird crossing their path. Yona smiled at the reminder of Ao, though her eyes were glistening with tears.

They reached her parents’ graves and Yona practically collapsed, only Hak’s grip on her fingers keeping her grounded.

He let her have the quiet as she replaced the wilting flowers that someone had placed there a week or more ago with her fresh ones, bright reds and yellows that Hak had paid for, ignoring Yona’s protest that she ought to instead. The look he had given her had quieted her and she had thanked him quietly, glancing away.

He plucked the dead bouquet from her fingers, ignoring the surprised look she threw his way through her tears.

Sighing but smiling fondly at him, Yona turned back to the grave, dragging in a deep breath even as tears continued to prick at her eyes.

“Mama. Papa,” she whispered, her fingers seeking his again. Hak let her squeeze as hard as she needed.

Every year it was like this: Yona visited her parents, struggled to tell them of her accomplishments and frustrations over the last year through tears.

Even four years later, the pain was just as fresh as it had been the night he’d found her crying in that ambulance, and Hak fought tears of his own. He hoped the trembling of his fingers was masked by Yona’s.

“Hak?” Yona asked, pausing in her update to blink up at him curiously.

Dang.

“Just allergies,” he tried, but Yona’s face told him she didn’t believe him.

“Hak,” she said in that scolding tone he hated, “you know I won’t tease you for being emotional.”

She was right; she hadn’t made fun of him for crying with her the morning after her parents had died, nor for anything else similar in the four years she’d lived with his family.

He paused to look around for a moment before confessing, “I haven’t been to my parents’ graves since they died.”

Yona’s gaze grew even more pained and she insisted, “We can find them now.”

Hak didn’t dare protest that she A) wasn’t finished talking to her own parents and B) had never even _met_ his parents. She was going to help him find their graves if it was the last thing she did today.

“Aren’t you going to finish speaking to your parents?” he asked instead, hoping to buy a little more time, and not wanting to intrude on her yearly ritual.

“I was almost finished anyway,” Yona assured him, the trembling of her voice telling him that it wasn’t a lie. She always got weepier when it was time to leave.

Hak sighed as Yona stood, looping her fingers through his.

“Do you remember where they’re buried?” she asked quietly, watching him carefully.

“The cemetery’s changed since they died, but I remember the general area,” he replied, involuntarily clinging to her fingers as he began to walk that direction.

Yona said nothing as they walked, though he knew her thoughts were racing. She was giving him the same courtesy he always gave her, and he was grateful.

They reached his parents’ graves and Hak stopped abruptly, dropping Yona’s hand as emotions overwhelmed him.

He hadn’t been here in almost 15 years, though he remembered the day of the funeral as though it had been yesterday.

Mundok had cried for days after, as though the tears he’d held in during the service and the week leading up to it had insisted on flooding.

Hak had only been four, but he remembered the weight of emotions as clearly as they came rushing back today.

He remembered the tears from other attenders, from family and friends, but he’d absolutely refused to cry, like his grandfather.

He’d barely had any time with his parents, what with their work schedules, so they had never really felt like he’d figured parents should. Probably Mundok had been more of a father to him than the old man’s son.

The thought, which he’d never truly entertained before today, suddenly made him melancholy, almost miserable, even.

Hak’s knees gave way beneath him and Yona gasped as he hit the ground, reaching to steady him.

Their names stared up at him from gravestones he’d never really looked at before.

Eun-Jeong.

_Mom._

Ji-Min.

_Dad_.

“We should have brought them flowers, too,” Yona said quietly, kneeling next to him to touch the stones.

Hak didn’t reply, watching her fingers trace his parents’ names.

“Next time,” she decided with a small smile, a promise if he’d ever heard one.

“Next time.” He choked out the agreement, turning toward Yona.

She smiled at him, bringing her hands up to brush at tears he hadn’t even realized were leaking from his eyes.

The emotions crashed over him all at once and Hak found himself nearly doubled over, his tears drenching the shoulder of Yona’s shirt as she held him, rubbing careful circles on his back until the tears began to fade.

Slowly, Hak raised his head, never more grateful for Yona’s patience with him.

She smiled at him and Hak exhaled shakily, squeezing her fingers in a silent message.

Yona squeezed back and they made their way out of the cemetery quietly, contemplating the time they’d spent.

“Your parents’ names.” Yona broke the silence gently, looking up at him curiously.

“Hm?” Hak asked, meeting her gaze.

“Do they match your parents? Was your mother kind and graceful? Was your father wise and gentle? Do you remember?”

Hak inhaled carefully, thinking.

“I was only four when they died, and I didn’t spend that much time with them, but I remember them being those things, yes. Mundok always said they were, too.”

Yona hummed as they walked, her hand tightening around his for a moment.

He wondered if she was thinking of her own parents.

Hak hadn’t known them that well, either, but he’d spent more time with them than his own parents, so he had better memories of the Hiryuus. They’d always been kind to him and his cousins, and it had been incredibly difficult to watch Yona lose them.

He wondered if it had been that difficult for Mundok to watch Hak lose his parents. Certainly it had been difficult for his grandfather to lose his son, but Hak had only been four—that hadn’t occurred to him at the time.

Yona’s hand moved to his elbow as she stepped closer to him, hugging his arm, and Hak glanced down at her.

“Thank you for coming with me to see Mama and Papa,” she said quietly, smiling up at him.

Hak smiled back and echoed truthfully, “Thank _you_ for going with _me_.”

It meant a lot to him that she’d taken time out of her yearly habit to make time for him. There weren’t words enough to thank her for that.

“We’ll go any time you want,” Yona promised, squeezing his arm gently as they rounded the corner down the street from the Son house. “Next time I’ll remember flowers.”

No doubt she’d memorized the date they’d died and would make that a yearly ritual, with or without him, Hak mused, smiling.

Their parents were gone, but Hak knew that they’d never be forgotten. Not if Yona had any say in it.

He was already looking forward to hearing what Yona would have to say to his parents the next time they stopped by the cemetery.

**Author's Note:**

> Universe note: I feel like, being so young and unattached to his parents when they died (which I made up for purposes of this universe but it feels like it fits), Hak would have felt no real obligation to visit their graves. I figure Mundok goes on the anniversary or his son's birthday or something, and usually alone. But Yona loved her parents, and would take every opportunity to remember and honor them, even through the grief that comes with reliving their last day.
> 
>  
> 
> Name note:  
> EUN-JEONG   f   Korean  
> From Sino-Korean 恩 (eun) meaning "kindness, mercy, charity" or 慇 (eun) meaning "careful, anxious, attentive" combined with 廷 (jeong) meaning "court" or 婷 (jeong) meaning "pretty, graceful". This name can be formed by other hanja character combinations as well.
> 
> JI-MIN   f & m   Korean  
> From Sino-Korean 志 (ji) meaning "will, purpose, ambition" or 智 (ji) meaning "wisdom, intellect" combined with 旼 (min) meaning "gentle, affable", 敏 (min) meaning "quick, clever, sharp" or 珉 (min) meaning "jade, stone resembling jade"
> 
> Ji-Min was one I picked for another fic I'm writing and I liked it so much I used it for this one too. Eun-Jeong sounded pretty and like the kind of mom I'd have wanted Hak to have.


End file.
